Making a Comeback. Kristina Mathews
lots of reasons really.” Most of them selfish. “I didn’t want you to think you could come over anytime and borrow a cup of sugar. I don’t keep sugar in the house.”
“I see.” She nodded, but she didn’t look convinced.
“Look, Annabelle.” He let out a frustrated sigh. “I know who you are. I have every one of your magazines. I keep them in a drawer next to my bed.”
“Oh.” Her hand came up to the scarred side of her face.
“You’ve always been my number one fantasy.” He might as well get it all out. “I wanted to keep it that way. I didn’t want to see you as a real person. With feelings, ideas, and imperfections.”
“Sorry for ruining your fantasy.” She turned and walked away.
He didn’t want to hurt her, but she was getting too close. And he was getting too comfortable here.
He’d tried to tell her he was no Prince Charming.
Chapter 5
Annabelle washed her face and got ready for bed. She avoided looking in the mirror as she smoothed a thin layer of antibiotic ointment over her cuts. She didn’t want to see just how imperfect she’d become.
Her appearance had always been the one thing she could count on. The only thing she could control. Sure, she’d been blessed with her blond hair, blue eyes, and a body that fit the current standard of beauty. But she had to work at keeping it up. While her girls were in school, she’d spend a couple of hours on the treadmill, running along the beach, or doing yoga. The alternative would be to not eat, and she didn’t want to set that kind of example for her children. She tried to focus on eating the right kinds of foods, more lean proteins and vegetables, fewer carbs, and keeping her portions small. She didn’t push her diet on her daughters, she wanted them to grow up being able to enjoy food. Not fearing it.
She had to maintain her highlights. Although born blonde, her hair had darkened over the years. When she was young and carefree, she just had to spend hours in the sun and it would lighten to an almost platinum by mid-July. Now she spent a small fortune on highlights, conditioning treatments, and sun protection to keep her hair color from fading.
Her skin didn’t stay flawless without creams and serums, scrubs and sunscreen. Always sunscreen. She’d spent so much time and money on keeping her skin perfect.
A lot of good that did her now.
She’d never be the girl on the cover of a magazine again. The one her neighbor kept next to his bed.
She wasn’t quite sure how she felt about that.
He wasn’t the first person to see her only as she presented herself in magazines. She got that. Those images were about fantasy. It was about glamour and glitz and yes, sex. She didn’t want to think about how long it had been since she’d last had sex. Two years? Longer than that?
She didn’t want to think about sex, but with her hunky neighbor so close, she couldn’t help it. If she didn’t need his help she’d send him home. But even next door was too close.
Annabelle walked slowly and carefully downstairs to get a glass of water.
“Is everything okay?” He switched off the basketball game he must not have been really watching.
“Yes.” She started for the kitchen but then switched course and sat down next to him. Not too close, but close enough to notice his scent. Warm. Masculine. And incredibly sexy. “I was wondering how you ended up bringing the girls to the hospital.”
“Right place at the right time, I guess.” He shrugged, as if it was no big deal for a near stranger to just step into their lives so suddenly. “I was coming home from my afternoon run. The bus driver wouldn’t let them off without an adult to walk them across the street. They recognized me and I think it was Sophie who persuaded the driver to let them off.”
“Thank you.” She smiled. It sounded like a Sophie thing, convincing the bus driver that their neighbor was a close friend. “I wonder what would have happened if you hadn’t been there.”
“I guess they would have gone back and the school would have called your emergency back-ups.”
“I don’t have anyone local. Except my agent.” Who she needed to call in the morning and let him know she wouldn’t make the next two shoots he’d lined up for her.
“Well, you’ve got me.”
“So, you’re over the ‘keeping the fantasy’ problem?” She teased.
“Yes. I’m glad I got to meet the real you.” There was a genuine quality to his voice. He meant it.
“Do you really have my magazines next to your bed?” The idea both embarrassed and excited her.
“Yes.” He squirmed. Just a little.
“And do you…uh, use them?” She felt a blush heat her face. “I mean, I know you’re not a teenage boy or someone who would have trouble getting a date. But I haven’t seen any women leaving your place since I moved in.”
“I thought you didn’t remember me.” He smiled, just enough to show he was teasing her.
“I don’t remember interacting with you much. But I do remember seeing you. Listening to you play your guitar. Watching you run along the beach. Wondering about you.”
“So you’ve been stalking me?” His grin widened playfully.
“No.” Her cheeks grew warmer. “I just appreciate the view.”
She turned away, embarrassed by her admission as well as the fresh scars on the left side of her face.
“Annabelle.” His voice was gentle yet commanding.
She turned to face him.
A smile tugged at the corner of his lips. He reached up and swiped a strand of hair that had stuck in the ointment on her face, tucking it behind her ear. His long, strong fingers lingered there, in that delicate spot, before sliding down her jaw line. He lifted her chin just enough to make her look into his eyes. Desire blazed in the green-gold depths before he leaned closer and kissed her.
His lips were soft, playing hers tentatively, as if he was searching for the right note. But once he found it, he plunged wholeheartedly, finding the rhythm, making her body sing.
She moved with him, picking up on the unsung music of his lips. Sweet harmony thrummed through her body. His hands rested on her hips as he deepened the kiss. She pressed against him, and he slipped his hands beneath her shirt. He stroked her lightly, her skin on fire as he moved his hands higher and higher. His grip tightened as he moved toward her breasts. His right hand grazed her ribcage and she groaned as pain shot through her.
“Oh, Annabelle.” He dropped his hands. “I’m so sorry. I hurt you.”
“It’s okay.” She wanted to deny it, but the bruised ribs throbbed in a way that was as far from sexy as she could imagine. She eased away from him, grimacing at the pain and the embarrassment of leading him on.
“No. It’s not.” He heaved a heavy sigh and raked his hands through his hair. “I should go.”
“No. Please. I need you to stay.” She tried to smooth her T-shirt back into place. But it hurt. Almost as much as her heart. She wanted this man. This near-stranger who sang like an angel and kissed like the devil and did her dishes and looked after her daughters. She wanted him, but she couldn’t have him. Not when her body was bruised, and her head was befuddled, and her divorce wasn’t yet final.
“You’re so beautiful.” He looked at her, his gaze taking in every inch of her, lingering on her breasts before resting on her face. “You’re so beautiful it hurts. I knew I couldn’t trust myself around you.”
“My children trust you.” She couldn’t let him walk